


Logic and Fear: A Spirk One-shot

by nightowlbleedswords



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Florence + the Machine References, M/M, One Shot, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:37:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightowlbleedswords/pseuds/nightowlbleedswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate ending of TWOK in which Spock somehow escapes the radiation chamber. </p><p>I've fallen out of favor and I've fallen from grace<br/>Fallen out of trees and I've fallen on my face<br/>Fallen out of taxis, out of windows too.<br/>I fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you.<br/>- Florence + the Machine</p>
            </blockquote>





	Logic and Fear: A Spirk One-shot

_Sometimes I wish for falling_

_Wish for the release_

_Wish for falling through the air_

_To give me some relief_

_Because falling's not the problem_

_When I'm falling I'm at peace_

_It's only when I hit the ground_

_That causes all the grief..._

_I'm not scared to jump_

_I'm not scared to fall_

_If there was nowhere to land_

_I wouldn't be scared at all._

Florence + the Machine

 

Exhausted, Spock inhales and exhales quite heavily as he allows himself to lean against the wall for support, having just narrowly escaped the radiation chamber with his life. He lifts his hands to his face and briefly rubs his eyes, and in between his fingers he sees someone approaching rather rapidly from the end of the corridor. Straightening, he immediately recognizes the captain, running at full speed with his arms outstretched.

"Spock!" yells Kirk, despite the fact that he already has Spock's attention, despite the fact that the distance between them had closed at an expeditious rate and he already has Spock’s elbows in his hands and was swinging, no, _twirling_ him around in circles in the middle of the hallway.

“Spock,” Kirk says again, and this time it’s breathless like Spock himself, and Kirk’s chin fits snugly into the space, the parabolic slope of Spock’s shoulder, and Kirk’s arms are wrapped around him, strong like a magnet.

“Captain,” Spock manages, “I see no need for such…”

“Such what?”

“Such… antics.”

Kirk laughs into Spock’s neck, pulls away to look him in the eyes, and then keeps laughing.

“Captain–”

“For God’s sake, Spock, call me Jim,” intones Kirk quietly, for the thousandth time, and accompanies his statement with the usual sigh.   

“Cap– Jim. I cannot see any logic in your actions.”

Kirk’s smile – a charismatic, knowing grin that is aware of absurdity, and sets out to charm you anyway – shows itself momentarily before it disappears against Spock’s blue uniform. Spock cannot help but be pinned beneath it, as much if not more so than beneath Kirk’s arms.

They stay like that for a few silent seconds. Kirk is careful to refrain from any actual skin contact. Spock can feel the slight movement of Kirk’s heart against his chest. Illogically, it is calming; irrationally, it makes him content. He finally catches his breath, and then he loses it again.

Kirk’s hold loosens a bit, and he says to the floor, “I thought you were dead.” He faces Spock and his smirk has the appearance of being wiped off his face with a wet rag. He separates them, and his regretful hands catch one after the other on Spock’s shoulder-blades, shoulders, elbow-bones before dropping at last. Kirk looks up. “I thought you were dead,” he says again, “I mean there have been times that I thought you were dead before, but there had always been hope, if only a sliver – the uncertainty of the situation, the faith I have in you and your resourcefulness. But this time… I knew exactly what you were doing, and I knew – you told me the percent chance of someone surviving that ordeal.”

“Captain – Jim. Do you not see that the relatively small probability of survival was exactly the reason I had to do it?”

“Yes, yes, I understand. But – when you walked out that door – when you entered that chamber – when the comms stopped working – I thought that you were dead.”

“I’m afraid you’re repeating yourself, Captain.”

“Spock, I don’t think you understand. Just now, there were a few minutes that ticked by in the universe, during which, to the extent of my knowledge, I existed and you didn’t. You were gone, and I was without you. You were gone, and I thought I never was going to be able to tell you–” Kirk pauses thoughtfully.

“Tell me what, Jim?”

Kirk grins again, and takes note of the fact that Spock used his first name. Kirk grins again, and Spock wonders if he didn’t die in that chamber after all, and simultaneously denies wondering it to himself.

“Mister Spock,” Kirk begins in his captain voice, “I need you to calculate a probability for me. Two humans work together in close proximity for long periods of time, often dealing with high stress situations. Do you say that there is a high chance that they will develop a close relationship?”

“Of course,” he replies. “Humans are both social and emotional creatures that depend on one another for survival. What you call ‘friendships’ form when a human depends on a specific human with increasing frequency and in more areas of life. It is only natural for such a relationship to occur.”

“Right, right, Mister Spock,” Kirk nods in affirmation. “Suppose in said relationship, each individual accounts for 50% of said emotional and social needs.”

“Alright.”

“The relationship in question is between two humans. Therefore, each half of the relationship is composed of 100% human.”

“Correct.”

“Then suppose one of individuals is not fully human. Say they’re half human, half… Vulcan.” Spock could have sworn he saw a wink from one of Kirk’s eyes. “Half of the equation is still 100% human, but the rest is only 50%. In total, the resulting potential bond would still retain 75% of its humanity. Three-fourths of the equation still requires certain emotional and social fulfillments. Now, Mister Spock, wouldn’t you say that that is a relatively high percentage?”

Spock narrows his eyes at him. “I believe I would.”

Kirk’s smirk seems to increase in intensity. “The chances of such a relationship occurring are three times as likely as the chances of such a relationship not occurring.”

“What are you trying to prove with this flawed logic, Captain?”

Kirk shifts his weight towards Spock. “That the two of us are proof of such logic. And stop calling me that.”

“Jim, you must understand, that I as a Vulcan am incapable of expressing or fulfilling the social and emotional needs that you have described–”

“Spock, you must understand, that I as a human do not believe that for a second.”

“On what grounds?”

“The grounds that I _know_ you. The grounds that we have seen each other at our greatest strength and greatest weakness. The grounds that we are nearly exact opposites – passion and restraint – and the grounds that both of us are capable of both extremes. Spock, I refuse to believe that you are the machine that you make yourself out to be. Spock. You can’t tell me that you feel _nothing_ towards me.”

“And why not?” Spock retorts, almost sharply. Jim is getting too close – too close to his hands, too close to his heart, too close to the soft hidden things in his mind.

“Because– because _I_ don’t feel nothing,” Jim admits finally, belatedly, his hands gesturing raggedly. “And I thought – I thought I would never get to tell you.” He lets his eyes meet Spock’s, and in them Spock sees relief, sees release, sees knowledge. Kirk continues: “I refuse to believe that you are unable to feel. I know you care, Spock. And I know you don’t want to admit it.”

Spock remains silent for fear that he might say something he would regret.

“If you would only let me try – if you would just let me – I could draw you out, Spock.” Kirk’s smile teases a bit. “If you are as heartless as you claim, you would let me, because you would be confident enough in your own Vulcan-ness to withstand my attempts. But you’re not. So you won’t. That’s how I know, Spock. That’s how I know that somewhere within you, you care. You’re so afraid of it, because you’re afraid of being human.”

Spock looks at Kirk in the face without any change of expression while time ticks. Kirk stares back, challenging, hoping. But after a few minutes, he steps back and starts to turn away.

It is when Kirk’s back was to him that Spock quietly says, “I accept.”

Kirk stops and looks back.

Spock repeats, “I accept your challenge, Jim.”

Kirk grins his most fascinating grin. Spock immediately regrets this decision.

Tantalizingly, Kirk approaches slowly. One step. Two steps. Three. He doesn’t stop until their toes are only centimeters apart. Spock maintains eye contact for the duration of this, and finds it increasingly difficult, especially when Kirk’s face is tilted up to his own. He bites his tongue and ignores the alarms going off in his mind.

“It’s alright, Spock,” Kirk whispers. “Everything is okay.” Spock wonders how it is that Jim knows how much he is unaccustomed to this, how much he is kind of panicking right now. Kirk’s body is pressed close to Spock’s; Jim touches his nose to Spock’s. “Don’t worry. This is okay.” His eyes are kind, and his voice is soft.

“If you fall,” whispers Kirk, “I will catch you.” And then he kisses him.

Spock almost falls. Lip contact is different for humans and Vulcans. While he understand and appreciates the feelings attached to the human action it doesn’t produce the same effect. Though it is pleasurable. Jim is so… Spock can’t describe him. Jim is so nice. Jim is so patient. Jim is tracing circles around each of his vertebrae. Spock wants to fall, and he is terrified of it.

Kirk’s hands are wanderers. From his spine they go to his shoulders, and then traverse the length of his arms. And then, suddenly, it’s too late, and Spock realizes he should have seen this coming, he should have calculated every contingency, because Jim has taken Spock’s hands in his own and held them up, palm to palm, and this is what Jim knows will be the death blow to Spock’s fear. Jim reveals his mind to Spock, and the genuine feelings that lie within. He shows him the moment when he thought he was dead, and Spock feels firsthand the desperation, the panic, the denial that had flashed through Kirk’s mind earlier that day. He feels the weight of loss, and in himself knows that had the situation been the other way around, he would have felt the same way, whether he would have showed it or not. The grief is followed by elation at Spock’s improbable survival, and then determination to 1) confess his true feelings and 2) provoke Spock out of his Vulcan cocoon. Then Spock feels something he’s never felt before.

Spock feels love. This love – it resides within Jim’s heart and dwells inside his soul. It is rather logical, for it is based on past experiences and memories, little moments of admiration and endearment. It appears to Spock that Jim not only loves him for his usefulness, like he might expect, but for his personality and his quirks. Jim loves him for who he is. He loves him for his hidden passions. He loves him for his pointy ears. He has loved him for a long time, and he plans on loving him for longer. He wants to love him in ways only Jim can imagine. Spock also finds that Jim decided that if he was uncomfortable after his challenge, his experiment, then he would allow Spock to remain as he was. And he would still love him.

Kirk had stopped kissing him after he touched his hands, and he waited for Spock to come back to earth – or rather, the Enterprise. This is the restraint that Kirk mirrors from Spock.

When Spock finally re-focuses on Jim’s face, he just looks at him, speechless, astonished. Kirk’s smile is hesitant this time, but he laces his fingers with Spock’s. His other hand is around the small of his back and his thumb is restless, tireless.

“Like I said,” Jim murmurs, “Three times as likely–”

Kirk is interrupted because Spock is abruptly, impulsively, irrationally kissing him. This is the passion that Spock mirrors from Kirk.

Spock didn’t fall. He jumped. And Kirk caught him anyways.

 

_This is a song for a scribbled-down name that my love keeps writing again and again and again and again..._

Florence + the Machine

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Trek characters. I don't own Florence and the Machine songs.  
> I've had this fic buzzing around in my head for ages. Gracias.


End file.
